


The Wrong Pickup Line

by Star_Nymph



Category: Batman (Comics), DCU - Comicverse
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-03
Updated: 2013-04-03
Packaged: 2017-12-07 08:27:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,311
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/746419
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Star_Nymph/pseuds/Star_Nymph
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You would think after the first two times, Jason would have learned not to use ‘Be My Robin’ as a pickup line for Tim.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Wrong Pickup Line

Jason had asked Tim to be his Robin three times within their relationship.

The first shouldn’t have counted because he was off his knocker and Tim had been impaled in the chest. The second time he had blurted it out on their face date, caught off guard by the kiss he had been pulled into. The third time had been a serious proposal that had flown straight over Tim’s head. 

Contrary to popular belief, though, asking someone to be his Robin was not Jason’s form of pick up line.

Being a social outcast and general ruffian did not mean Jason did not know how to woo. In fact, he did so very well. One could even call him a charmer if he dared drop the ‘I’m sex on legs walking and also I’ve got a gun so basically I’m James Bond only better’ attitude. Hey, knife play and looking good in tights wasn’t the only thing he learned from Bruce Wayne.

So, yeah, to say Jason Todd wasn’t a damn good flirt would be a downright lie.

It was just…well…Jason didn’t work well when he’s been thrown a loop.

That loop being Tim Drake.

Jason loved Tim

(He could say that now because Jason had a lot of alone time to think it through so there)

Tim was a mystery and not the good kind which could be solved by one offsetting clue standing out from all the rest—or a gun to the mouth and a well-placed threat depending. Tim was an Agatha Christie murder plot that twisted and morphed behind thousands of locked doors and bolted tight windows and poison tipped knives. The sort of mystery which turned everything on its head, made smart men into fools, and caused unbreakable hatred to transform into curious fondness. Oh, and endless frustration and emotional trips for the fucking reader (aka Jason).

Batman probably didn’t even have this kid figured out quite yet.

All of this would be fine and dandy—because what this really added up to was an elite challenge and Jason was never one to pass up those—but Tim was on a whole other level of lock and key and Jason was stuck, confused, in his maze. And when Jason was caught baffled, he usually fell back on some kind of plan B.

Unfortunately with Tim, it had been the ‘Be my Robin’ line that, in retrospect, made him cringe as soon as it left his lips. Three bottles of tequila and a marathon of Supernatural (he may or may not have a mancrush on Dean Winchester) did not lessen the amount of ‘Oh God why the fuck would I say that I’m more awkward than Dick in scaly underoos’ which would rack his brain until intoxication took over and he would blissfully black out for eight solid hours.

But enough about Saturday nights spent drunk on Roy’s couch.

It had taken Jason six months to come to a conclusion and work with it. The conclusion being that within the three year period of their romantic relationship (not counting the period spent trying to beat the shit out of each other prior) Jason had fallen (not too gracefully) in love with Tim. This conclusion thus leads to another decision.

He wanted to go ball and chain.

Tie the knot.

Be legally contracted to him until the day he dies (for real)

He liked it, so he was going to put a ring on it.

To put it simply? Jason was going to ask Tim to marry him and he was going to do it in the best fucking way possible; throw Tim for a loop for once. The problem that remained, however, was how to do so without alarming Tim beforehand. Because this was Tim. He knew about everything Jason did. He knew what he was going to do before Jason even did it—not for a lack of trying on Jason’s part, mind you. Which was irritating as fuck when it wasn’t endearing and hot as hell—because when Tim took the initiative, it was like fireworks were going off.

He had to keep it secret and to do that meant not opening his mouth to anyone for six months about his plans. Especially Dick; he couldn’t keep secrets for shit. Jason went through all the necessary channels in his effort to keep his ever watchful boyfriend in the dark, putting on disguises and trading names (what do you mean ‘Peter Jackson’ isn’t a good cover up?) when traveling to different jewelry stores, searching for the right ring for Tim.

(Couldn’t be too thick or too thin. Gold wouldn’t work out, he wore too much of that. Had to be silver. Fuck, why the hell is a silver band so expensive? Fuck, what the hell was Tim’s ring size?)

After waiting for a three month period, paying a good thousand dollars that he clearly did not have, Jason received the ring and with it, he quickly formed his plan.

He was going to take Tim to dinner at a fancy Gotham restaurant and get the best table overlooking the skyline, wearing his suit with black dress shirt and the blood red tie Tim had a seeming fetish for. He wouldn’t propose there, it would be too cliché and Tim wouldn’t like an audience—knowing the upper class, they probably wouldn’t appreciate the display between the two males anyway, assholes that they were. Instead they’d take a ride on Jason’s motorcycle and cruise the city for what could take hours, Tim’s arms clinging tightly to his chest as the wind blows through their hair. Then, when he managed to find a spot far out of Gotham where no one would go, he’d stop the car and offer Tim his jacket. Of course, Tim would object because that’s what Tim does, so he’d have to insist by dropped the leather onto Tim’s shoulders, smirking as he shoved the sleeves on and sunk into the larger bulk. He’d look so cute—all handsome with his wind tousled hair and his prim suit and drowning in his leather—Jason would wrap his arms around him and kiss the younger man breathless and weak.

And when everything was quiet and misted over with romance—B A M! He’d pop the question.

Tim would never know what hit him.

It was perfect strategy, catching Tim so off guard, he wouldn’t know what to say other ‘oh, yes’.

It was foolproof.

“No, Jason. Not tonight. Bruce wants us to pick up on Dick’s patrol after last week’s injury. Double time.”

“What? What about the brat or Batgirl or—or—”

“Damian isn’t allowed to patrol by himself and Steph is on the job in Metropolis with Supergirl. It’s us or no one else.”

“Fine—no one else than. Babybird, I planned this night fo—”

“The answer is still no. This isn’t up for decision, Jason. Go find your helmet. I’ll meet you outside.”

Oh, holy mother of fuck, some bastard must really loathe him up there.

He didn’t know who to cuss out more—Bruce for his horrible, fucking awful timing or Dick for falling while doing a dumbass trick and breaking his motherfucking leg. Truth be told, he suddenly had the impulse to find Goldie and break the other one while he was at it.

Jason went on patrol, unfortunately, but he wasn’t going to do so happily. Not when Red Robin and Red Hood had to settle on a roof top for four hours. Jason grumbled underneath his helmet, his white-out lenses glaring out at the beaming lights of the city. Below them, the city was screaming with life as the rich and plenty strolled down red carpets arm in arm for a night in Gotham’s richest district. His blood boiled at the thought of his table rented out to some schmuck and his plastic Barbie doll date because no one had showed up for their 8:30 p.m. reservation.

Jason swore, heading smacking against the cement ledge he leaned against. The tiny ring box in his jacket pressed uncomfortable against his chest and the reminder made Jason cuss Bruce and all he stood for once more.

“Are you really going to act like this all night, Hood?” Tim asked, binoculars raised to his eyes. Jason’s eyes switched to his hunched form, cloaked by his black cape from the cold as he stared out into the night and searched for nothing. And that just made Jason angrier because it was just his luck that tonight of all nights was going to be one of the most peaceful of the year.

Jason growled out his response and crossed his arms over his chest.

He heard Tim sighed, annoyed, and his feet scraped the ledge under his body, “Fine. Be that way, Hood.” The smaller man huffed out, “I don’t understand why tonight was so damn important to you. It’s not like we can’t go out tomorrow.”

And Jason splattered incoherently because Tim didn’t understand.

Tonight was going to be perfect and now it wasn’t—fuck—knowing Tim doing this twice within the same month would clue him in and

His arm pushed the ring box into his chest again

He thought why the fuck not now? He didn’t know what he was going to say because the mode wasn’t right and he was angry and his mojo wasn’t in the right place—

Jason reached out, grasped Tim by the wrist forcefully and dragging him towards as his knee hit the ledge hard. He opened his mouth and said the first words that arranged in his head,

“Be my Robin.”

His voice was rough and low as he all but growled. It should have sounded sexy and it would have been, but then Jason realize what he had just said and by Tim’s widen lenses so did he. “Wha—Wait! I-I mean—shit!” The older man dropped his hands and tried to think of something less stupid because that’s now how this conversation was going to start!

Tim stared at him, utterly confused by his boyfriend’s odd behavior, “’Be Your Robin’? What the hell is that supposed to mean?” The younger man’s eyebrows furrowed together, wrinkling his cowl, “I’m not going to be your sidekick, if that’s what you’re proposing.”

“No, Babe, it’s not th—”

“If this is your way of starting some sexual fantasy, you picked a horrible moment to—”

“What?—Oh, God no, Tim! I…” Jason snarled then and tore off his helmet, as well as his communicator piece because everything was going wrong and he didn’t need someone listening in for what he was about to say next. “Fuck, just take it!” He told him as he shoved his hand into his jacket and threw the ring box at Tim’s head.

Tim’s hands scrambled to catch the tiny thing, latex fingers wrapping tightly around it. Tim stared, silent and his eyebrow arched up as he studied at the box. Painfully slow, he opened the box and his face fell blank.

“Wha…”

Jason panicked. “Look, I know this isn’t the greatest place or time or night or what the fuck ever but I couldn’t stand to wait so I figured why not, it’s romantic enough up here anyway and—Why aren’t you saying anything?!”

Tim looked up and frowned, holding up the box, “This is a ring.” He said as if he was stating this fact to a seven year old, “Why are you giving me this?”

Jason splattered incoherently again because, well, nothing was going to make this easy for him, was it? He let out a crumbling sigh, a hand pressed to his face and rubbing hard as he peered at Tim through his fingers, exasperated green eyes meeting with whiteout lenses. He dropped his helmet, the heavy thud echoing against the screaming wind, and moved closer to Tim. Rough hands reached to push off the younger’s cowl, smoothing his long, wild hair as his suspicious blue eyes glared up at him. Damn it all, if the natural mistrust didn’t make this easier for him.

Jason took the box from Tim, shaking his head as he slipped out the ring and rolled it between his fingers. “Just so you know, I’m not getting on my knees for you.” He pulled the end of Tim’s left glove until it came off and held the bare hand between their faces.

“This is what the ring is for.” He slipped the cold band onto Tim’s ring finger, the younger man’s eyes widen slowly, “And why I’m giving it to you is because I—”

“Yes.”

Jason stilled, feeling Tim’s hand gripped around his own as the boy’s head picked up and he glared at him, as if daring Jason to question his answer. He felt himself being tugged forward, the front of his shirt balled by two fists, as Tim’s chapped lips pressed against his and their noses mushed together. It was clumsy, Jason smiling and laughing into the kiss until Tim pushed closer, tongue tracing and coaxing his mouth open.

They tugged at each other and held themselves together like a puzzle until Tim pulled away, Jason’s lips following after him. Fluttering open his eyes, the older man grinned down and pressed his forehead against his. Tim looked back with defiant eyes and a playful smirk, hands—ring catching shine from the lights below—still fastened tight at the collar of his shirt.

The silence which followed, as they snuggled together and smiled like the two goofs that they were, was perfect and suddenly Jason wasn’t too disappointed in his failing plans anymore.

“Nice line, by the way. Are you taking tips from Dick now?”

Jason groaned, eyes narrowed as he pulled Tim—his fiancé—into another kiss to shut him the fuck up, laughter erupting deep within the younger’s chest.


End file.
